Wings of Sapphire
by whitedove4
Summary: Sequel to Daggers of Ice. It was little more than an inkling he felt, that something was not right. Her eyes were too green, too beautiful, and when he looked into them there were no other thoughts in his mind. And then there was the other one. She did not have a scaled emerald tail like the other witch; no, she had wings of sapphire and eyes of sky blue. Rilian never had a chance.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Pre-Silver chair as well as post silver chair as well as a kind-of sequel to my other fic Daggers of Ice. I really hope you enjoy this. I wanted to give the Lady of the Green Kirtle a back-story, because not much is known about her. Anyway, no more pre-amble. The prologue is super short, but please don't be dissuaded, the other chapters will be longer, I promise. ENJOY : )

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

7 years passed

Emerylda watched the beautiful queen, whose hair shimmered like the starlight. Apt, she thought. For what other colour hair would a star have?

She watched from the shadow of the oak tree, hidden. Unseen. Always watching.

The queen sung a pretty tune, light and lilting.

She wore no crown, no circlet to denote her rank, but there was no mistaking the Queen of Narnia. For none other was as beautiful in the land, glorious ballads were sung for her beauty, the tale of how she had enchanted King Caspian X with just a single glance.

She could hear the rest of the party, they were a merry boisterous bunch, their music floating through the forest.

The star's son, Prince Rilian had been knighted. On the cusp of manhood, the prince had seen no more than eight and ten years. And what better way to celebrate his knighthood than by giving a gift?

Emerylda watched the queen in her solitude, her pristine white gown pooled around her like the petals of the softest rose. The golden jewellery she wore glinted in the soft light that flittered through the canopy above. She was picking wildflowers as she sung.

Of course she was.

A fool to leave the protection of the knights and courtiers.

And in that instant Emerylda made her decision.

Her skin shifted, her shimmering jade gown falling to the ground as silken scales ran across it. Stunning emerald scales that almost sparkled like the woman she watched. She revelled in the feeling of the ground beneath her soft scales, it felt so much better than earth on flimsy rough skin. She had perfected only the one shape.

But it was enough.

The pretty queen did not see her coming.

She had sensed nothing wrong.

It was easy, oh so easy for Emerylda to sink her fangs into the soft flesh of the queen's arm, looking up into those deep blue eyes. Eyes which opened wide, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pain as the venom flowed into her.

"Mother!"

The voice startled Emerylda who drew back, hissing.

The young prince had burst through the clearing, his deep blue eyes wide.

Terrified.

A man, but little more than a babe.

Emerylda slithered back into the bush. He would see nothing more than her tail. And though her true form had far better hearing, though she relished the taste of his fear in the air. She could feel his heartbeat, rapidly pounding within his chest.

"Mother," it was a sob that tore from deep within the prince. A cry. "Help! Someone, help!"

But the bumbling courtiers could not come in time. Nothing would save their dear queen as her lips slowly turned blue.

Nothing could stop Emerylda's venom.

Her sister would have laughed at his unmanly display as he cradled his mother in his arms.

Liliandil's mouth was desperately trying to form words. But nothing would not. It could not. Not as the venom flowed through her body, shutting down her organs one by one. Soon her heart would give.

And the kingdom would grieve.

Emerylda grinned.

Narnia would fall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The rough and stony moor fell away before her, the many streams and rivers of Ettinsmuir glinted in the half-light of the sun that tried in vain to reach through the clouds that rolled overhead. Sapphyre's steps were as silent as the deer that she stalked.

It was lost, its herd over the next reach, far beyond its sight.

Her soft-soled boots fell upon the earth as she crept behind the large stone. Those large black eyes would not see her.

The feather of her arrow brushed her lip as she drew the string back, using the soft curve of her mouth as an anchor.

A soft exhalation, her heartbeat steady and even.

The deer's ears perked upwards, its eyes widening in fright. And its head turned a moment before it bolted.

Sapphyre's bright eyes narrowed.

A scowl on her face and a curse on the lips as the brilliant white mare trotted over the hill. She ducked down, careful not to be seen.

And always on-guard, she kept her arrow knocked.

It was a knight, one of the Narnian King's – for the face of the Lion was upon his chest.

Sapphyre frowned.

Searching for the lost prince, she was sure. There was no other reason he would be so far north. The Narnians had no love for the Giants.

And the Giants had a little too much love for the Narnians.

The knight was vigilant, his eyes searching. Alert.

But he did not see her. And so she followed him silently.

Once more she was the hunter, her body hidden by the rocks, her dull clothing blending into the patchwork around her.

Miles of marshes spread as far as she could see, with patches of tall grass. The river had lessened to a slow trickle. The air was heavy, thick with the feel of death and decay. Goosebumps rippled up her skin. Fog weaved throughout the sparse trees which stood stooped over with little sign of life.

She had never liked the marshes.

The knight would press on, he would not go around she saw, as he began to weave his mare through the barely-visible path.

She placed her arrow back in the quiver, laying it and her bow upon the ground gently. And with a breath she started to shift. Arms became soft feathered wings; her body became less than a hand-span tall.

And her patchwork clothes lay behind the rocks and bushes as she took flight. A bluebird.

She whistled, a merry song she thought. One she'd heard the Harfang giants whistle while working.

The knight smiled, and as he turned, he lifted a hand for her to land upon.

"You're a pretty little thing," he smiled as she chirped.

Chirped. She would have gagged if she'd been in her true form. But as a bird…She chirped again.

His finger stroked her feathers in that strange-but-pleasing way. "You know I fear this may be a lost cause. We never find anything, no matter how many times our King bids us to search." He sighed. Solemn. Perhaps he would leave.

She hoped he would leave.

"But all our knights disappear every time he sends us up here. Caspian thinks that a sure sign he is being held prisoner by the giants."

His fingers were so gentle, but her she felt her tiny heart fall. He would not turn back.

Damn Narnian knights and their vows.

"You know you have strange eyes for a bird." He had stopped the mare, and raised his finger to view her small form properly. So gentled.

"By Aslan," his indrawn breath was ragged and Sapphyre knew it that moment what he had noticed.

The moment she always dreaded.

When they saw her eyes, the same eyes that she saw each morning in the mirror when she brushed out and plaited her auburn curls. In her bird-form they were not wide and impossibly thickly-lashed, they were not set beneath perfect arched brows. But no matter what form she took the colour remained the same – the brilliant blue that she was named for. The colour than none other would have.

That no animal should ever have.

She left his body in the marshes to feed the animals, his throat slit with the blade she had taken from his belt. She did not stay to look into those hazel eyes, directed towards the solemn sky but unseeing. She rid his body of the shiny armour he wore, pushing it into pool of mud and water where it would sink.

How many knights' bodies had she disposed of thusly?

She slapped the mare on its rump, hoping that the fortunate soul that found it would treat it kindly.

Her clothes and weapons were where she had left them and were donned quickly, her hair braided just as fast.

She almost sighed.

She would return home empty handed.

But she had to report to the Lady.

….

She watched the Pale Beaches become a speck behind her, the seaport – the only link to Narnia above – was gone. She faced the south, trailing her hands in the water as the earthman pushed the boat.

"Careful there lass, yer don't want anything biting off yer fingers," he said in his deep, gravelly voice. Laughing.

But though it was meant in jest, she withdrew her fingers and watched as a fill-like crest rose from the water, a little to the right of her small boat. Creatures of the dark and deep, with teeth the size of her fore-arm.

But they preferred the colder bodies of those that dwelt in the water.

Sapphyre looked up at the eternal darkness of the cavern, so high that she could only ever image that she could see the ceiling.

It would take hours to reach the other side of the lake, perhaps five or six. But so much faster than travelling over the land above. For there were no canyons or rivers to cross, no forests to traipse through. Just the vast expanse of water between the Pale Beaches and the City. The Sunless Sea.

It had once been called the Shallow Lands – the gnomish name for the lands beneath Narnia. Renamed Underland by Emerylda.

Sapphyre knew that they were directly beneath Ettinsmuir and the Wild Lands of the North. In a few hours they would be beneath the rest of Narnia. But there was no life and laughter as there was in joyous Narnia. Underland was darkness and shadows, with the fiery lands of Bism even farther beneath.

But it was not up or down that she went. She travelled south, to where the lake ended in a rocky mountain that rose us into the cave. Whereupon Emerylda had built her Dark Castle and the city surrounding it.

So lost in her thoughts, Sapphyre did not notice when the first of the cities lights appeared on the horizon. White and dull, it was a cold light, it could not rival the beauty of the world above.

She gazed upon the city as the earthman drew them closer. A perfect copy of the home that they had been forced to leave so long ago.

….

Click.

Click.

Click.

Her perfect nails drummed against the arm of her throne. With her other hand she held the polished silver goblet which showed her oh-so-perfect reflection.

She smiled, stroking her soft cheek. The perfect creamy skin, wide emerald eyes, lined with kohl. Her dark auburn hair was held off her face by a circlet of silver, inlaid with emeralds and diamonds, the perfect match to her eyes.

She would make the perfect queen.

A soft sigh escaped her lips.

She was so close. So so close. But not ready. Her control over the boy was not quite secure; the spell did not settled at it should.

She needed more time.

She stroked her face once more. She had all the time in the world.

A horn blew in the distance, a boat approaching from across the Sunless Sea. A smile curled upon her full plum lips. Finally. Her sister had returned.

Her General. Who would once more stand by her side and help her take over a world.

….

Caspian paced in his chambers, restless.

Another knight missing. Gone to search for the prince who had been gone for the past eight years. Many had gone searching for him at their King's bequest. And yet none had returned.

Not one.

He had thought that it had been a sign that he was surely in the Wildlands of the North. But his knights could have been taken and eaten by the Giants of Harfang who had grown restless of late. They could have been kidnapped by the witches of the north. Or they could have simply given up and not returned.

A cry tore from his mouth. Despair.

He missed his son as much as he missed his wife – both beautiful, brilliant lights that had been taken from him.

He had no wife and no Heir.

What would happen to Narnia once he had gone?


End file.
